


Dead Reckoning

by ThatBohoFemme



Series: The World of Obscure Emotions [9]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Couple sticking together, Emotional Hurt, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Help, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post Mpreg, Sad, Stillbirth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-03-09 23:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13492377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatBohoFemme/pseuds/ThatBohoFemme
Summary: They’re doing their best to navigate a world they don’t understand. Parents aren't supposed to bury their children. Babies are supposed to be born alive and healthy. New dads should be basking in the happy glow of the new life they created and helped to bring into the world.Seth and Dean have none of that. They just have each other.





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> I promised everyone would get a prequel to Monachopsis and here it is. This is going to be heavier than most of these have been but It’s a story that needs to be told. I suggest tissues, at least for the first few parts. 
> 
> Thanks for your support. Please feel free to leave comments and feedback.

_Dead Reckoning-n- to find yourself bothered by someone’s death more than you would have expected, as if you assumed they would always be part of the landscape._

It's been exactly 12 hours, 45 minutes and 17 seconds since Seth's world stopped turning. 

He's doing his best to navigate a world he doesn't understand. Parents aren't supposed to bury their children. Babies are supposed to be born alive and healthy. New dads should be basking in the happy glow of the new life they created and helped to bring into the world. 

Seth has none of that. He's got his husband in the hospital, recovering from a difficult birth and nearly catatonic with grief. He's got a daughter who was born silent. Instead of a welcome home party, he's planning a funeral. This moment that should have been marked by happiness is now marred with heartbreak. 

Seth enters the house, swearing as he kicks a box of diapers. Dean had clearly been in the process of moving things around and readying the house when all hell had broken loose. 

He hadn't wanted to leave his husband but Dean had forced him to go home and try to rest. He had been at the hospital for three days through everything. 

Flipping on the light, Seth surveys the space. Boxes of diapers line the entryway. The living room is _full_ of laundry baskets, all packed with folded and laundered baby clothes. Dean hadn't made it to the nursery yet. 

"How could this be our life?" Seth mutters, picking up a sleep suit.. smelling sweetly of organic laundry soap. He brings it to his nose and inhales the smell of lavender. He blinks back tears, ignoring the pangs of sorrow staring at his core. 

How could everything have been fine just four days ago? 

_Hey, no need to worry but I'm headed to the doctor._

_Why?_

_Haven't felt Baby move since last night. They want me to come in to be safe._

_Are you okay?_

_Swear I'm fine. They're probably just lying weird._

_Okay, call me when you're done. Love you both._

_And we love you._

That's the very last moment of peace Seth received. When his phone rang just two hours later, _everything_ had changed. 

_Dean?_

_I need you to come home right now._

_Why? Babe? I can't understand you when you cry. Dean? Hello?_

_Seth, this is Sarah, one of Dr. Smith's nurses. I'm incredibly sorry to have to tell you this but the baby doesn't have a heartbeat._

One phone call and the entire world tilted on its axis. Seth dropped everything and flew to be at Dean's side. 

Once the baby came, their world stopped turning. 

Seth's _exhausted_. He's physically drained. He's mentally drained. He'd been at Dean's side throughout the entire ordeal. _Three_ days of watching his husband labor, insisting on going through it naturally. 

_Dean, please take something for the pain._

_No, I need to feel this. Let me feel this._

_Babe, you don't need to go through this alone._

Their baby girl was born perfect. Ten fingers. Ten toes. A full head of dark hair. The only problem was she had been born silent. 

"I couldn't protect you, Stella. My one job and I couldn't protect you," Seth mumbles, staring at the sleepsuit. "Our Stella Jude." He clutches the clothing to his chest. 

Seth hasn't cried yet. He's afraid to let the tears flow. He knows himself well enough to know that once he starts crying, he may never stop. 

"One job. I had _one_ job. Couldn't even be here when he needed me most," he mumbles. "We'll survive. I hope." 

All the light is gone from their world. Seth feels as though he weighs a million pounds and is walking through a world of darkness. 

It's the start of a long cycle.  
\---  
Seth's back at the hospital by 4:45 AM. He's managed to sleep _maybe_ an hour. 

He stands outside of Dean's room, holding an extra large cup of coffee. It's extra hot, bitter and black with a double shot of espresso. He doesn’t taste the bitterness. He barely registers the heat of the drink against his tongue. 

Seth is just _numb_. 

He reaches out to open the door, his hand resting on the knob. He glances up, barely registering the white rose on the door that is a message to the rest of the hospital that something terrible has happened in this room. He shakes it off, turns the knob and walks in. 

“He just fell back to sleep,” the night nurse says in a low whisper. “It was a rough night.” 

“I can imagine.” Seth settles into the hard-backed vinyl chair and reaches out for one of Dean’s hands. “Do you think he’ll be able to come home soon?” 

“Up to the doctor but I don’t see why not,” the nurse replies, entering notes on an iPad. She turns, setting the iPad on her cart and leave. The only sounds in the room are the squeak of her cart wheels and the sound of her hard-soled shoes, tapping against the tile. 

Seth gently squeezes Dean’s hand, watching as he tries to pull away from the contact but stays asleep. Seth chooses not to speak, choosing instead to just hold the space. There are no words- nothing that can be said to ease Dean’s pain. Besides, Seth doesn’t know how much talking he’s capable of. The last few days have been pure hell. 

_I wish I could heal your broken heart. Hell, I wish I could heal MY broken heart._ Seth thinks, just watching Dean sleep. _I’m going to do whatever I need to be here for you right now. We’ll get through this._ He isn’t sure how much of that he believes but right now, Seth needs anything other than the mind-shattering pain to cling to. 

As he continues to watch Dean sleep, he breathes, inhaling and exhaling slowly. It’s the only thing he can do. 

It’s the only thing he has the strength for.


	2. Day 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Dean wants is to be left alone. Just him and his sadness.

Dean can't shake the feeling of emptiness that's consuming him. 

He's been home from the hospital for three days. All he's done is lay in the dark, wishing he could feel anything other than the debilitating pain and sadness. 

Seth is doing his best to be there. Dean respects that; it's more so that he doesn't want the love and compassion that Seth is giving him. _His_ body failed; he feels he's the reason their baby died. No matter what people tried to tell him, he knew the truth. He'd had one job: protect their baby until she could be born healthy. He couldn't even do that right. He really doesn't understand why Seth is still here. 

Seth has tried to tempt him with food; Dean's not hungry so he refuses it. The most he'll take is water. His hormones are influx, causing dry mouth. He can't deal with that. 

_You need to eat._ Seth's urging rings through his memory but he lets it go. 

Seth's tried but Dean refuses. He's now leaving Dean to his own devices. It's painfully clear that he doesn't know what else to do. 

Dean curls up on his side and faces the wall. He can't resist running his hand around his belly. He's used to his stomach being firm and full of life, the baby kicking away. Now there's nothing there. He still _looks_ pregnant but there's nothing there.   
She's just _gone_.

Dean tries to sleep but can't. When he closes his eyes, he's haunted by her perfect face. That's been one of the hardest things to accept. The simple fact that she had been _perfect_. It had been nothing more than a terrible accident. She'd just managed to move in such a way that her umbilical cord knotted, drastically shortening her fantastic life. So instead of functioning, _he just lies there_. 

It's been a week since he shared that final moment with their daughter. Had it _really_ just been seven days ago that he laid in this very spot, hell, _this very position_ and told their child about their excitement? Laid here and felt the miracle of those tiny kicks? 

Light streams in from the hallway. It burns his eyes, causing Dean to look away. He hisses, jamming a pillow over his head. He doesn't want to snap, but all he wants to do is be left alone. 

Why is that so difficult to comprehend? 

"Babe, brought up some tea and toast," Seth says timidly. Dean can hear the mug crashing against the plate. "Do you want to try to eat something?" 

"Not hungry," he lies. His stomach twists angrily, the smell of the toasted sourdough spread thick with sweet butter making his mouth flood with saliva. 

"Sit up." Seth says as he sets the tray on the bed table and pulls the pillow from over his husband's head. "You're not starving on my watch." Dean winces, the harsh note in Seth's voice causing him to draw back. 

"Come on, Dean. Don't make this difficult. I really don't want to have to force-feed you," Seth says as he tries to hold the plate up to Dean. This actually causes him to take in the aroma of one of his favorite comfort foods and resists succumbing to the urge to finally eat. 

Dean can't bring himself to grab the toast, no matter how much he might want it. He's physically hungry but has no mental desire for sustenance

"Dean, I love you," Seth says, setting the plate aside and picking up one of the toast halves. "One bite. That's all I need." Seth holds the toast up to Dean's lips.

Dean reluctantly takes a small bite. It's for no other reason than to appease Seth. It doesn't taste like anything. It's just a spongy leaden weight. He swallows hesitantly, doing his best not to gag. 

"No more. I can't. Getting queasy." It's threatening to take over, his stomach rolling. Dean lays back down, curling up in the position he's grown used to. He feels the bed dip, Seth's arm slinking around his waist. The unexpected contact makes him cringe. Not only does he not deserve this but it only serves to further remind him that their daughter is _gone_. 

The doctor's tried telling Dean it wasn't his fault. Seth's tried telling Dean. it wasn't his fault. It was just a freak thing. The chances of it happening ever again are miniscule. 

Dean doesn't believe that for a second. 

As Dean sinks further into his head with sleep threatening to take over, he swears he faintly hears Seth. 

_Babe...Dean...please come back._


	3. Day 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just after Stella's funeral. Seth realizes he needs to be more patient with his grieving husband and does his best to help Dean on the most difficult of days.

Seth watches Dean push through the crowd of mourners and disappear upstairs. 

It's been 168 hours since their world stopped turning. 

168 hours is 7 days which is 1 week. He prefers to think of the time since Stella in hours. It somehow manages to make her impact more meaningful. At least, that's how it works in Seth's mind. 

It doesn't make sense. How could one five pound four ounce baby girl rock their world so thoroughly? 

"Can you hold the fort down?" Seth asks, coming up behind Cesaro. "Need to check on Dean." He waits until he sees Cesaro nod before running up the stairs. 

The bedroom's empty. Seth _knows_ Dean's got to be up here somewhere. He turns, noticing the nursery door is the tiniest bit cracked. Since Seth _knows_ it was shut before, he knows that he'll find his husband there. 

"Babe?" Seth calls, walking in. It takes him a second to realize the room is empty but the closet door is ajar. He opens the door, looking down to see Dean. "Are you okay?" 

"Can't a man just sit in a closet?" Dean retorts, his hand running lightly over a stuffed unicorn dressed like a ballerina. "I feel close to her in the nursery and feel her most in the closet." 

Seth _wants_ to argue with Dean's logic but he knows it will do no good. Grief does funny things to people and logically, they couldn't be argued with. 

"Well, can I join you?" Seth asks. This seems like the next best thing to do. If he couldn't get Dean to come out of the closet, he would go in. 

It takes a moment for Dean to react but he ends up scooting over and patting the space next to him. Seth manages to wedge himself into the free space and pulls his legs into a full lotus position. He twines his hands with the hand not holding the unicorn and they sit in silence. 

There's so much Seth would like to say but he's not sure how any of it would sound. Being in your baby daughter's closet on the day of her funeral is so against the natural order of things that it doesn't seem like the right time to talk. 

"It wasn't supposed to be like this." Dean breaks the silence, staring at the unicorn now resting in his lap. "We were supposed to have first steps, first words, a life with her- prom, wedding, grand kids. Instead, we have _nothing_. This is crap." Tears start streaming down his face but he doesn't sob. He just stares angrily at the unicorn. 

"It is crap. She should still be here." Seth squeezes Dean's hand. "I don't know how but we'll get through this." 

Dean rests his head on Seth's shoulder. This surprises Seth since it's the closest Dean's allowed himself to get since giving birth. Dean doesn't speak, choosing to just sit there, his hand once again moving around the unicorn. 

Seth cannot believe this is his Dean. He's usually so full of life, ready to move on to the next great adventure. This person next to him is a shell. 

Seth gets it. _Really_ he does. Dean had been through a horrible experience. It's going to be a long time before things go back to anything resembling normal. That's _if_ things ever went back to normal. 

To be fair, Seth doesn't know what normal will like in the future. 

Seth trusts that the mourners are fine with Cesaro. They're all close friends and family. They understand Seth and Dean not being present. As long as they're fine, Seth has no problem staying with Dean. He knew where he needed to be- the closet trying his best to comfort his husband. 

Eventually, Dean manages to fall asleep, his head still resting on Seth's shoulder.  
\---  
Seth shifts, trying to get comfortable. Dean's been asleep for the last four hours, curled up with the unicorn clutched to his chest. At some point, he'd managed to sleepily curl up into a tight ball so he could sleep with his head in Seth's lap. 

The closet door opens slowly. Seth blinks, his eyes adjusting to the soft light. Cesaro hovers over them, his brown eyes soft and full of compassion. He's also asking for an explanation. 

"Don't think he could deal with people," Seth says, his voice barely audible. "He chose closed space so he could control who was around him." He smooths down Dean's sleep-mussed hair. 

"Is he okay?" Cesaro asks, his voice just as low. "Do you need some help?" 

Seth _hates_ to even contemplate moving Dean. He's pretty sure this is the most sleep his husband's gotten since losing the baby. Yet, Seth _needs_ to move. His bladder aches, screaming for relief. Most of his muscles have fallen asleep, the slightest movement causing the pricking sensation of pins and needles. His stomach growls angrily, begging for food. 

"He sleeps pretty sound. I think you'll be able to move him into the bed." Seth knows he should be the one to move Dean but he's not confident he can do it without dropping him. 

Once Dean's somehow shifted out of the closet and in Cesaro's arms, Seth struggles to his feet, gripping the side of the doorframe for support. He bites back a scream of pain as the pricking sensation takes over. He tries to walk, willing his knee not to buckle. Dean's worth it but he hates feeling like this. 

"Let me help you." Cesaro walks over to Seth, draping his arm over his best friend's shoulder. "Bathroom?" Seth nods, taking slow, careful steps. Cesaro supports him, careful to keep pace. 

"Did he wake up?" Seth asks, hobbling out of the bathroom. "Just curious." He winces, the pain in his legs peaking. 

"No, I set him down, and tucked him in. He didn't move," Cesaro replies. "I ordered Chinese food for us. Going to pick it up. Need anything else?" 

"I'll text you a list. Pick up the ingredients of Dean's favorite pudding?" Seth's never been big on cooking but Dean _needs_ to eat. If making avocado pudding could help, he's willing to try it.  
\---  
"Do you want me to make it?" Cesaro asks, watching Seth pull out a mortar and pestle as well as a pot. 

"You're sweet to offer but I have it." Seth says, working to pull the pit out of an avocado. He cubes it into chunks and drops it into the mortar. "If you want to grab a fork and mash bananas, that'd be helpful." 

Seth knows he could accept the help but he's finding the process very cathartic. There's something strangely soothing about turning a bunch of random ingredients into a dish that could feed his husband. 

Once the avocado and bananas are mashed, Seth cracks two eggs, separating the yolk and white. He saves the yolk while discarding the whites. 

"It surprises me that you own a double boiler," Cesaro comments, watching Seth whisk the yolks with sugar until pale and thick. 

"You know how many times I've had to make this stuff?" Seth asks, quickly adding the avocado and banana to the pot. "It's- I mean- it _was_ one of Dean's biggest cravings. I don't understand how he eats it- I think it's disgusting. He loves the stuff when he's not pregnant but more so when he is..." 

The more Seth works on the pudding, the more his heart beats. He doesn't even realize he's crying until he notices Cesaro pulling him into a side hug. 

"Don't know what's come over me," Seth mumbles, moving back from the stove. "I don't cry." 

"It's okay." Cesaro whispers, gently rubbing Seth's back. " _Ich bin für dich da_." Then, he clears his throat. "I am here for you." 

Seth sniffles, drying his eyes on the corner of a ragged kitchen towel. He _hates_ feeling like this. It's hard for him to stay strong if he's upset. Who would take care of Dean if Seth allowed himself to succumb to the overwhelming sadness? 

"I'm going to take this up to Dean," Seth says, scooping pudding into a bowl. He pushes a spoon into it and dusts the mess with cocoa powder. 

Dean's still asleep, something that Seth finds surprising. His husband's always been an insomniac who hated to sleep alone. This sad man who slept all the time was not his Dean. 

"Babe?" Seth gently shakes Dean's shoulder. He sleepily swats Seth away. "Come on. Need you to eat. I made avocado pudding." 

"Not hungry," Dean mumbles, pulling the comforter over his head. 

"Come on, Babe. I _know_ you haven't eaten today." Seth shakes him a little bit harder this time. "Please?" 

Dean reluctantly sits up. He winces, stretching. He draws the blanket further up his body. 

"I made this for you. It's fresh." Seth pulls a spoonful of pudding out of the bowl, holding it to Dean's lips. "Here." He relaxes as Dean opens his mouth and accepts the bite. 

Seth can tell Dean's eating _just_ to appease him. He also knows if he were to leave Dean to his own devices, he would stop eating and just pretend he ate. 

"Thank you," Dean mumbles, accepting another spoonful. "You're the only person other than me who can make this." 

Seth nods, grateful Dean's at least trying. He can't imagine the kind of Hell that Dean's in. It's hard to imagine how he'd be right now if the baby hadn't died. 

"Seth, no more please." Dean turns his head away from the full spoon. He sighs, settling back into the bed. "Thank you. Great as always." He lays back down, curling up on his side. 

Seth stares into the depths of the bowl. Dean's eaten maybe a quarter cup of pudding. He closes his eyes, resisting the urge to say anything. He knows he should be happy that Dean's at least eaten _something_. It's not as much as he would liked but it's better  
than nothing. 

Taking care of Dean is showing Seth that he has more patience than he realized. 

It's a great realization, one that will take him far in his career and yet, he'd trade this realization for the ability to have his husband back.


	4. Day 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's going through the motions, trying to get by one day at a time.

"Be honest." Dr. Smith turns to face Dean. "How are you feeling?" 

Dean coughs, trying to figure out the best way to answer. It's been 10 days since the baby died. Physically, he's fine- recovering just the way he should be. He thinks his hormones are returning to normal. His mental health is a different story. He's not okay. He's tired. He's angry. Just getting out of bed is a struggle. 

He _can't_ tell her that. 

"Fine." It's far from true but he can't tell her how he's really feeling. "Wanting things to go back to normal."

"You've lost eight pounds in a week. Are you eating?" Dr. Smith checks her notes. 

"I am." Dean doesn't think she would consider a few bites of toast and a quarter cup of avocado pudding eating but he does. It's also he can manage to take in with some weird smoothie concoction his husband's created. He eats just enough to stave off the pangs of hunger. 

"Dean, please don't hesitate to reach out if you need some support. Grief is a strange thing." The doctor gently squeezes his shoulder. 

"I will keep that in mind." Dean sighs, trying to keep his composure. He wants nothing more than to get back to his safe space. 

Seth had wanted to be there but he had a mandatory work physical. Dean's fine with that. These are the kind of things he prefers to be alone for. There's no need to stress his husband out if he can help it. 

Seth's got enough on his plate.  
\---  
"Babe?" Seth softly calls, wandering into the bedroom. "I ordered pizza. You hungry?" He turns, facing the bed. 

Dean stares back at him. It's a rare moment that he's sitting up, staring at a tv show on mute. He needs to shower but has no desire. Maybe eating something would help...

"Small piece?" He's not sure how hungry he is but he knows he needs something. Also, maybe this will give him the motivation to shower. 

Seth stops, double taking. It's clear he hadn't expected Dean would actually accept the offer. He opens his mouth as if to speak but decides against it, turning to the closet. 

Dean wishes he had the ability to tell Seth _everything_ but he can't. The thoughts are all consuming. That's why he _can't_ let Seth in. There's no need for his husband to take on any trace of his guilt. 

People don't know how to react. He tries to respond appropriately, but really- that is easier said than done. 

_Oh, I'm sorry you went through all of this for nothing._

Multiple people have said this to him. He understands what they're trying to say. They're trying to tell him that they're sorry he gave up his body for eight months and the end result was _gone_. That doesn't make him feel better. To him, these well meaning people are saying that her life meant _nothing_. That's far from true. Her presence was brief but she taught them valuable lessons. She taught them to never take anything for granted because it could be gone in an instant. She taught them that it was possible to give a lifetime of love in an instant. These are not worthless lessons. 

"Do you want to take a shower while I change the linens?" Seth asks. "I'll be quick and by the time you're done, pizza should be here." 

Dean doesn't particularly want to shower. He barely wants to move. He's content to lay there, avoiding the world that doesn't know what to say to him. 

_She's in a better place._

Someone had actually said that to him on the one time he had dared to go out. It had been a well meaning neighbor who hadn't known what else to say. Dean had had to resist the urge to tell her exactly what he thought. Their daughter was in a better place? There was a better place for a newborn that wasn't with her loving dads who'd been excited to meet and nurture her? 

All of these people are starting to give him a headache. 

"I'll be on the back deck." Dean rises slowly. "Join me if you want!" He wraps Seth's bathrobe around him, moving through the house. 

It's cold, the air moving away from fall and heading towards winter. The trees are officially dead, the branches bare. The grass has turned brown and crunchy. 

It's almost as if the world is mourning the baby with them. 

Dean turns his head, noticing Seth staring at him through the sliding glass doors. In turn, Seth doesn't realize Dean is staring at him. He blinks, resisting the urge to cry. Dean hates that sad, slightly lost look his husband's got and he hates knowing he's the reason behind it.  
\---  
Another sleepless night. 

Dean _tries_ to stay in bed but he's found it's not a good idea to let himself get too restless. Set sleep like a log so as soon as he’s in a deep sleep, Dean gets up and head into the nursery.

This is the space that had been decorated with a huge hope for the future. This is supposed to be the space where their dreams grew and flourished. Instead, it’s become a sign of everything that they’ve lost. They’ve not only lost her daughter, but also their innocence.

Dean tucks Seth in and stands. He needs to make his rounds and then, go sit in one of the few spaces that bring him peace. 

Dean moves into the nursery and sits in the old rocking chair. He’d done it while pregnant- getting up in the middle of the night, heading into the nursery to sit in the old rocker and dream of their future. He does the same thing now, except instead of dreaming, he ruminates on what they’ve lost. 

The antique rocker had been a gift from a neighbor. She had noticed Dean’s condition and sent the chair over. 

_We have no use for this chair anymore but I see you will. I hope this item brings you as much joy as it did for us._

Dean had been beyond delighted with the gift. As he sits up, he remembers how he ran his hands over the aged wood and dreamed of the adventures this chair would be a part of. 

Now, this chair is where Dean sits and thinks about what might have been. He stares at the Fairy Green Walls, accented in Canyon Wind and remembers the arguments he and Seth had gotten into. The entire time he's thinking, he rocks, wishing life had been different. 

If things had been different. he would be 35 weeks and 2 days along. The baby would be safely inside him, doing what she needed in order to keep growing and to get ready for life on the outside. He and Seth would be busy, finishing up the few things needed to make sure their nest was perfect. 

"Stella." The name still sounds weird to him. "Stella Jude." Dean practices saying her name. He wants the world to know she existed. In order to do that, he _has_ to say her name. They'd never intended for her to be a Stella but it became appropriate once she had passed. 

The name meant 'star', which is where Dean liked to think she was. 

_Among the stars._


	5. Day 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seth has an awkward encounter with the dry cleaner and learns that he has to embrace Dean's few and far between good days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, this part is a little bit lighter.
> 
> As always, enjoy, If you have any questions or comments, I welcome your feedback!

Seth has a love-hate relationship with their close-knit community. 

He _loves_ the neighbors, that sense of knowing who's around and that feeling of community. He knows his neighbors. They know him. It's really a great system. 

What he _hates_ is that bad news never seems to travel the way that good news does. 

"Isn't your husband due soon?" Ned the dry cleaner asks, handing the shirts over the counter to Seth. "Haven't seen him lately. He's usually the one dropping off and picking up." 

Seth stares back at Ned, a dumbfound look crossing over his face. For all he knew, his jaw had dropped open. This is the _last_ thing he expected in the last place he expected. How the hell was he supposed to answer that? 

Tears fill his eyes, causing him to blink rapidly. He tries his best to control himself. All he needs is to become the talk of the neighborhood because he had a breakdown in the middle of the dry cleaner. 

"We actually lost the baby about two weeks ago," Seth replies, speaking bluntly in a soft voice. He doesn't know what else to say, especially seeing the awkward look that Ned is giving him. He nods in the older man's direction as he rushes out of the shop and to the car. 

He puts the clothing in the backseat and sits on the driver's side. He rests his head on the steering wheel, trying to resist the urge to break down. He can't deal with this right now. They're going out into the world more and it's almost impossible for him to cope. 

He has more errands that he needs to run. He still has to go to the market, the bank and some weird herbal shop for a tea someone told him _could_ work for Dean. 

He needs to be home with his husband.  
\---  
"Why do you look so pale?" Dean asks, watching Seth walk into the living room. "Are you okay?" He rises in concern, staring hard at his husband. 

Dean surprises Seth by sitting in the living room. He looks relatively put together, his clothing being clean and matching. He'd even showered. 

"Are you okay?" Seth asks, sitting next to him. He isn't sure what's going on and the last thing he wants is upset him if he doesn't have to. 

Besides, Dean already knew how cruel the world was. Did he really need further reminders? 

"Having a good day," Dean admits with a casual shrug. "I actually had a good 10 minutes when I wasn't happy but I wasn't sad. I was just alive. It was great." He exhales, reaching over for Seth's hand. "Then, I felt like shit because I wasn't thinking about Stella. Honestly? It was good to feel alive but I also know that I have more bad days ahead of me." He sighs, staring at the carpet. 

Seth knows he can't tell Dean about the dry cleaner now. That would only serve to upset him and that was the last thing Seth wanted to do. They've got more rough days ahead of them and Seth's going to let his husband embrace his good day. 

Dean presses his head to Seth's chest right above where his heart beat. He pulls his feet up, curling up into a tight ball. As he listens to his husband's heartbeat, he drifts to sleep. 

Seth can tell that this is a peaceful sleep, one where Dean isn't being held down by grief. He can't resist reaching over and threading his fingers through Dean's hair, massaging his scalp. 

This is the most physical contact that they've had since Stella's passing. 

As Dean sleeps, Seth feels like he's getting a glimpse of the man who existed before grief and sadness started bogging him down. It makes his heart ache to realize how relieved he is to know Dean's having a good day. Is it betraying their daughter to not always be paralyzed with grief? 

"Dean, I wish you knew how much I still love you. How I don't blame you for what happened. How much I miss you and your smile." Seth talks, still running his fingers through Dean's hair. "I know you will never believe me but I don't blame you. I love you and I just want you back." 

He's glad Dean's had a good day. He's hopeful that it's a step in the right direction. He's aware the pain will never fully go away. This is a fact that he accepts. He also knows life _has to_ move on. 

This is the last thought he has before his eyes grow heavy and he joins Dean in sleep.  
\---  
Seth wakes up to Dean staring at him. He stretches, still keeping his arm wrapped around his husband. He's not used to being the second one up, grieving or not. 

"Hungry?" Dean asks. their eyes momentarily connecting. 

"You're asking me?" Seth cocks his head in disbelief. This is the first Dean's even _thought_ about food in 13 days. "What are you thinking?" 

"Told you- having a good day. Still sad. Still feel like shit. Still want to curl up in a ball. Probably will tomorrow but for now, I'm embracing it." Dean shrugs. "Can't explain it. Also, sushi- extra ginger, extra wasabi." 

"Sounds good. Do you want to order?" Seth asks, pulling Dean closer. 

He's grateful for Dean having a good day. They're both moving through things their own way. If Dean wants to take full advantage of having a good day, Seth doesn't see the harm in embracing it. 

"If you insist." Dean teases. He doesn't smile but the tone of his voice is lighter. Then, he leans over, quickly pecking Seth on the lips. 

It's the first kiss they've shared since Stella's passing. 

Seth knows he can't get his hopes up for more good days. They will come in their own time. This fact pains him but he knows it's true. 

It's time to be treasured.


	6. Day 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's told that time does funny things when one is grieving. He honestly had not been sure how much of that to believe until he seemingly blinks and six weeks pass without him realizing it. 
> 
> Stella's been gone for 42 days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I've had a bit of writer's block with this one but I think I'm back on track.

Dean's told that time does funny things when one is grieving. He honestly had not been sure how much of that to believe until he seemingly blinks and six weeks pass without him realizing it. 

Stella's been gone for 42 days. 

This is about the time she'd be due if she lived. Maybe they'd be gearing up for her arrival. Maybe she'd already be here and they would be anxious sleep deprived new dads, navigating sleepless nights and diaper changes. 

That's a parallel universe though. 

Instead, they're here, navigating the roads of grief. There's crippling sadness and two broken hearts trying _desperately_ to understand their world and make it work. 

Seth's been back on the road for almost two weeks. He's busy, trying to settle into a new routine. He talks to Dean once a day and definitely tries to make it twice a day. That's proving to be a rarity. He's so busy. 

At least, that's what Seth _claims_.

Dean knows the truth though. There's no way his husband wants to be anywhere near him after what happened. Maybe Seth's even still secretly blaming him...

That's got to be why Seth's so hard to reach. There's no other logical explanation. 

Dean sleeps on either the living room couch or the chaise lounger in the nursery when he's alone. He can't bring himself to sleep in their bed alone.

That space holds more happy memory than he cares to remember. That's the bed where their daughter was made. It's where Dean told Seth about his pregnancy. It's where they would sit up on Seth's rare nights off and watch their baby kick the cold bowl of Sunflower Vanilla that rested on his belly. 

That's most definitely not a place for him to sleep alone. 

Dean's doing better in the outside world than he ever thought possible.There's a small park down the street from their house and that's where he spends his time. He's _sure_ Seth would think these walks accomplished nothing but mental torture. Dean disagrees. These strange walks help immensely. 

If anything, he finds it cathartic, watching the children play. The knowledge that they get to be little without being exposed to the horrors of the world relaxes him. 

That innocence is a feeling Dean wishes he had never lost. 

_Beautiful girl, we miss you more than you could possibly know._ Dean thinks, lighting the pink memorial candle. He allows the candle to burn a little bit each day as a way to communicate with their daughter. _It just hasn't been the same since you passed._

He's sure it doesn't work that way but it brings him a modicum of comfort to think it does. 

He stifles a yawn, resisting the urge to snuff out the candle and sleep. This is the way he communicates with their daughter, and blowing it out too soon seems... _wrong_. 

_Stella, please help bring your daddy back to me._ Dean thinks, his eyes growing heavy. _Love you, Princess. Rest peacefully._

He blows out the candle.   
\---  
"Dean, why are you on the couch?" Seth's voices manages to pull him out of a sound sleep. 

"It's where I sleep when you're not here?" Dean offers the first explanation that makes sense to his sleep-addled brain. "I mean- only sleep in our bed when you're home." 

Seth gazes away, leaving just enough time for Dean to catch is mournful stare.

It's the look Dean _hates_. 

He's not crazy. He's not broken. He's just _sad_. 

"Today was my due date," Dean states flatly, slowly sitting up. He feels the couch dip as Seth sits next to him. "What are..." Dean drifts off mid-sentence, cut off by his husband wrapping him in a tight embrace. 

"Maybe...just maybe...I worry we're growing apart and I hate it." Seth strokes Dean's head as he talks. "We were so carefree and happy before everything happened." 

Dean _wants_ to retort, pointing out the reality of the situation and yet, he can't. 

_He knows Seth is trying his best._

Instead of pointing out everything wrong with Seth's statement, Dean chooses to snuggle closer, accepting the offered comfort. 

Sometimes, trying to say the right thing is almost as good as saying the right thing. 

"Babe, just because I say that- it doesn't mean I don't miss her." Seth kisses Dean's forehead before he continues speaking. "I miss you too. Your smile. Your energy. I feel like the Dean I fell for is gone." 

"He is but can I tell you a secret?" Dean stares up, ensuring that their eyes meet. 

"What?" Seth asks, looking puzzled. 

"Innocent Dean is gone but I'm still here." Dean strokes Seth's hand as he speaks. "I'm not crazy. I'm not broken. I'm _sad_. There's a big difference." 

Seth nods, seeming to understand where Dean's coming from. 

"It's not going to be an easy fight." Dean twines their fingers. "We can get through this but only if we deal _together_." 

He's not sure Seth's even listening but he _hopes_ he's gotten through. 

"I think I can do that." Seth's voice is barely audible. 

Dean just hopes that's the case.


	7. Day 60

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seth tries to cope with their new normal.

Seth _hates_ their new normal.

They're communicating better but for the most part, Dean keeps him out. Seth wants to get through but the fear of never getting his Dean back exists.

He also doesn't want to chance hurting Dean anymore than he already is. 

At one time, Seth dreamt of their happily ever after. There was nothing he wanted more. 

Now, Seth can't imagine them lasting another year. 

He _hasn't_ given up on Dean. He just doesn't know what their future holds and it's a startling realization. 

Seth's been on the road more than usual lately. He does this partially to keep busy. He does this partially to give Dean space. It's also a kindness for himself. He can't bear the thought of watching the love of his life deteriorating in front of him. 

"You coming home this week?" Dean's voice comes over the speaker, sounding grainy and strangely far away. 

Seth fumbles in the passenger seat for his planner. He _thinks_ he's got media and other promotional appearances this week but he can't remember. A quick check of the page tells him he's right. 

"Media through Friday. Then, House Shows. I'm off after Monday though." Seth swears he hears Dean make a disappointed noise.

"Fine." 

Seth wishes he had the magic answer. He wishes he knew how to mend a broken heart.  
\---  
It's hard not to focus on time. Stella would be eight weeks old. They'd be settled into a routine. Seth would actually look forward to going home. 

That's not how it is. Seth dreads going home because he never knows what he's walking into. Will Dean be having a good day? Will he find Dean hasn't moved from the couch for three days? 

Most marriages don't survive a loss as big as theirs. At first, Seth found himself determined to not be one of the statistics. There was _nothing_ they couldn't survive. 

Now, Seth's not so sure. 

"You need to face the truth," Cesaro chides, staring at Seth over a cup of coffee. "You cannot avoid going home." He watches Seth tap his fingers against the tabletop. 

"You think I should go home and just watch my husband deteriorate?" Seth struggles to keep the venom out of his voice. "Would you do the same if it were you?" 

"I cannot say what we would do if the situation were reversed." Cesao admits, crossing his arms over his chest. "I also know this isn't healthy for either of you." 

Seth knows Cesaro has a point. That doesn't mean he wants to accept that. 

"I just- I don't know him anymore." Seth throws his arms up in the air. "I want my life back." He's surprised when his best friend walks to his side of the table and tightens his arms around his shoulders. 

It's the first real hug Seth's had in ages. 

"We'll get you through this. Both you and Dean." Cesaro tightens his grip on Seth again. 

Seth wants the pain to go away. He doesn't want to forget Stella. He just wants the pain to end. He wants his life back. 

Seth's never been good at dealing with his emotions. 

Had he been like this when Dean was pregnant? He doesn't remember but he doesn't think so. He'd been nervous but not fearful. He knew their life was changing but it was for the better. He'd never considered the possibility that their baby girl wouldn't make it home.

Now, Seth's lost in a world he doesn't understand. He can't save Dean. He can't save himself. He couldn't save their daughter. 

A true man would face the situation instead of running. 

All he can do is throw himself into work and hope he stays afloat. 

He can't decide what else to do.


	8. Day 112

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean transforms the nursery back to just a room.

Dean hasn't experience life in 3 months and 8 days. It's been 3 months and 8 days of Hell. 3 months and 8 days of wondering what deity hated him. 

He _knows_ he's losing Seth. He also doesn't know how to fix it. 

Right now, that's not his concern. He's doing something he has no desire to do but something that needs to be done. 

He's turning the nursery back into a guest room. Dean doesn't want the room to become a shrine. It would be such an easy thing to do but it's not what he wants. 

The furniture's sent to one of the local homeless shelters. Clothing's been returned or given to charity. 

The only thing left to do is fix the paint. 

"Stella, by doing this, we are _not_ forgetting you or pretending you never existed." Dean stares at the closed door. "We _need_ to do this if we want to heal. Can't do that if we keep your nursery as a shrine." 

Dean would _like_ to think she gets it. As much as they loved her, she would understand. She wouldn't want them to be sad. 

He walks through the door, a sob catching in his throat. This needs to be done- no matter how much it hurts. It's a fact he needs to constantly remind himself of. 

Buckets of paint surround the tarped room. The Fairy Queen walls are a painful reminder of what might have been. Dean had chosen the color because it reminded him of emeralds, and royalty and a bright future. 

They'd been painted with such love for their future. 

Seth hadn't wanted Dean anywhere near the paint so he insisted on doing all the painting himself. Dean agreed on the condition he got to choose the paint color. 

A line of scribbled text catches Dean's eye. He squats so the words are eye-level.

_To Baby. With Love, Daddy. 11/7/18_

Dean's fingers trace the line of text. It's not something he'd ever really noticed before. Then again, he purposely avoids this room. It's not surprising that he's never seen it. 

He rests his forehead on the wall, his fingers still moving over the line. He _knows_ the room needs this. It doesn't make painting any easier. 

He pries open a can of Honey Nougat paint- a warm orangey- brown. He dips a brush in the paint and goes to paint over the message. His hand shakes. Paint drips from the brush, splattering on the tarp. 

He can't bring himself to paint over the message. As far as he's concerned, it's a testament to a father's love and the fact Seth once cared. 

It's getting to the point where Dean's unsure of how much more he can take. 

He boxes the message, painting around it. 

They can always choose to hide it behind a piece of furniture. 

As he paints, he talks. 

_Stella, please look after us. Daddy and I need you more now than ever before._

_I remember picking the colors of this room. Daddy thought it was too dark. I told him that was impossible._

_Stella, I don't want a divorce. I want Daddy to get his head out of his ass._

_Can you imagine what our lives would be like if you were here? We'd be a completely different family if you'd lived._

_Daddy and I are falling apart. Really falling apart. I don't know what to do._

He talks to her- not only for a way to stave off the quiet but also as a last ditch effort to save the life he so desperately wants. 

Some people believe you can speak things into reality. 

_Stella, I don't want to lose your dad. I'm not sure if you can help fix things, but if you can help bring him back...I'd appreciate it._

Dean understands that everyone grieves differently. He gets it. Really, he does. 

That doesn't make things any less lonely. 

With a final swipe of the brush, he finishes transforming the room. 

It's gone from a place of hope to just another generic space.


End file.
